Missing
by BiochemFreak
Summary: A story inspired by CSI. Stacey is looking for him, he killed them, 13 girls in the last 10 years have gone missing, but will she be the one to stop him, or will she be the next victim...please R&R


The trees lay broken after the fearsome storm that had broken out months before. The forest seemed weary and tired, almost too old to repair itself again. The beauty that had been Grayhare Forest was in pieces. It was generally deserted, for when the darkness crept in...screams could be heard across the lake, dividing the forest and Village. The crooked branches seemed to whisper in the wind, trying to send warning signals to those who entered. To those who entered and never returned.

As the moon rose across the scarlet lake, the birds began to squawk. Something, someone was coming closer. The light reflected off the mask which hid his face. It was silver, shiny and concealing. He dressed all in black, excluding his gloves, which were once black, now dyed with blood. The blood of his victims, the blood of the innocent girls he had brutally tortured and killed. To the right of the lake, was a house, his house. More of a shack really. It was old and almost falling apart, but it suited him perfectly. And underneath, lay a dozen bodies...never to be found.

It had been almost a year since Jamie Alan went missing. There were no clues, no viable suspects and altogether no traces. The case had been closed, yet Stacey still found the need to find the answers. Jamie was the twelfth girl to have gone missing in the last ten years, which seemed to have the same case notes. "This must mean it was the same person committing these crimes." Stacy sat, surrounded by the notes from each unsolved missing persons case, trying to make sense of it. She had followed these cases since they had begun. It had fascinated her, made her want to catch the killer. And ten years later, she was sat at her desk in Grayhare's police department, working the case that held more secrets than she could ever have imagined. The only clues would be a few drops of blood, confirming the identities of the victim. An unknown hair was also found at Sarah Stone's case. "Hey Patrick!" she called, across the desk, "I'm going to check out the abandoned shack again, by Grayhare Forest, see if we missed anything." Patrick, her supervisor, was a large man, a classic 'sit and eat doughnuts' kind of guy. He nodded, barely hearing her over the racket of his music.

Stacey grabbed her keys and left, thinking to herself "what a shoddy town this was, with a police station to match." She had lived in Grayhare all her life. Abandoned by her parents and raised in a care home. A place where no one knew how you felt, no one seemed to care if you ran away, or even if you returned. She still remembered the day she arrived there. Her carer, had stood in the hallway, smoking. The wallpaper looked like it had come from the 1920's and all the time, her sister had been grabbing hold of her hand and crying. Stacey had tried so hard to calm her and raise her, then left her in that hell hole, while Stacey fulfilled her own dreams. She couldn't help thinking, "if I hadn't of left her alone, if I had been there...Maybe she wouldn't have gone missing, maybe she would be alive and well, living a full life" For in her heart, Stacey Alan knew her sister was dead.

As she drove down the quiet road, thinking of the times she had shared with her younger sister, she failed to notice the buzzards circling the tree tops. It took ten minutes for Stacey to reach the edge of the forest. She parked her car and got out slowly. The forest was beautifully silent, and for a minute or two, she was lost in the grace of it. The golden sun glinted off the wedding ring on her skinny fingers. Suddenly a high pitched screech broke into the cool air and startled her. Her pager was screaming at her, and as she left, she didn't realised quite how lucky she had been.

Patrick was waiting for her and looked relieved when she arrived. And upon the hill, a few miles east of the ancient shack, was a body, being circled by buzzards. A young girl, only twelve at the least, lay covered in blood and soil, with her clothes ripped and knickers flung onto a nearby branch. The ruby liquid that leaked into the mud contrasted with the darkness of the ground. The girl's body had been cut and scratched, a sign of defensive wounds. The killer had brutally murdered this innocent girl. Directional blood spatter lay all around her tiny frame, and in the distance the sound of the wind howled through the trees, making the scene slightly eerier. A vertical cut lay engraved in her right wrist, which was bent at an unnatural angle. Stacey looked away in disgust and hatred. "How could he?" she thought. Patrick bent down, and started to collect whatever evidence he could without touching the body. Detective Harris turned up to the scene slightly after Stacey, with records of another missing girl, missing for forty eight hours at the most.

"This one's just been reported" She sighed, handing the file to Patrick. She was a tall, skinny woman with mousy brown hair. Her black suit suited the atmosphere of the scene and gave away her business personality.

"The coroner put time of death fifteen hours ago." Patrick handed the file to Stacey. The girl's name was Daisy Jones. She had been born on the seventeenth of January 1998 and was Samuel Jones' daughter. Grayhare's Mayor.

"I'm thinking our serial killer is trying to prove a point now" Haley Harris stated, "the Mayor's daughter?"

"We don't know if this was just coincidence "Patrick interrupted, "we also don't know if it's a serial killer on our hands, the girls were never found!"

"No, they weren't, but face it...we all know they are." Stacey replied, "We won't find this guy until we give up on the girls. We aren't going to find them with luck; it's too much for a small town police department. There are ten of us, and thirteen girls."

"And one killer." There was no need to say it, because it had crossed everyone's mind. One person, who had hidden for ten years. They had probably talked to him in the village stores, met him on the side of the road and had a friendly chat. Invited him to summer parties and Christmas outings to the pub. They all lived among him, and no-one knew who he was.

Later that day, after returning to the police station, Stacey looked back over the files. The clues all seemed to lead back to Grayhare Forest. For a minute or two, she was lost in her thoughts. "Stacey?" Patrick called, bringing her back to reality, "I've got in touch with the family, are you coming?"

"Yeah, sure." The drive to the Jones' was quiet. Both detectives thought about what they were going to say to the family. This was not the first family that had been torn apart by this. And Stacey knew the feeling. Her parents had been taken away from her in a twist of fate. Stacey could still hear the screeching of the tyres headed towards their car, before plummeting into darkness. Patrick got out the car and Stacey followed, walking up the garden path to the maroon door. The sound of a fist against the hard oak rumbled out into the dusk. Mayor Jones answered the door. He was a tall man, with dark curly hair. He wore a suit, navy blue with, ironically, a blood red tie. His wife appeared next to him, as small as a mouse, compared with his large frame.

"Mayor Jones, Mrs Jones, I'm Detective Hyde and this is Detective Alan. May we come inside?" The serious look on Patrick's face said it all. Mrs Jones burst into floods of tears, instantly knowing. The two detectives stepped inside and revealed the horrible truth; they then began asking questions about Daisy's supposed whereabouts when she went missing. Something they had done too many times. The tense mood was suddenly broken by a little girl, no more than five. "Daddy!" she screeched, "the clan of tamagotchi's are invading England...arghhh!" Stacey smiled, remembering what it was like to be that young, not having to understand, and being happy all the time. "I'm sorry for your loss" Stacey said, feeling the urge to get home, "We will be in touch when we have whoever did this to your daughter or any new evidence."

She arrived home, to an empty house. A small yellow post-stick note was attached to the mirror, 'Stace...gone out with the guys, be back later, love you lots'. Stacey sighed, looking into the mirror. She was a pretty girl, with strawberry blonde curls, that ran down her back. Her make-up was simple, and so was her fashion sense.

"But then again, cops don't need to be stylish" She told her sister.

"Well, when I'm rich and famous, I'll buy you 'fashionable' clothes." Jamie said, raising her glass, "a toast, to Stacey, on her new job."

"And to you, finally applying to collage" The glasses clinked and champagne spilled onto the floorboards.

"I think you're slightly half-cut" Giggled Jamie, dragging Stacey up to dance...

Stacey laughed, reminiscing, then realising where she was. "Oh, Jamie, where are you?" she whispered into the darkness, before grabbing her book and heading to bed.

12th July 2001 – Jane Hacknell

"Mum...MUM!" Jane awoke drenched in sweat. "It's a dream," She whispered to herself, "just a dream." Though, in the night's silence she could hear the heavy footsteps on the stairs, a sound she had heard many a time, a sound that had caused her nightmare.

"Shit, not a dream." Jane had grown up with her father, after her mother had died in a car accident, four years ago. He used to love her like a child, but it seemed since her mother had passed away, he loved her in a very different way. She hid underneath the covers, making her breathing heavy, pretending to be asleep. The door creaked open slowly.

"Janey," whispered his sly voice. He walked across to the bed, seeing his daughter sleeping soundly. He wouldn't wake her, not tonight anyway. The floorboards squealed with every step he made. Jane waited until she was sure he had retired to his own room. She let out a sigh of relief, turned over and drifted into a restless sleep.

"Morning Dad," Jane said anxiously, "I'm going to get ready and I might walk to school today." She ran upstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. It wasn't until she was finishing plaiting her hair, he walked in. She knew what he wanted, deep down. She stood up, carefully and slowly.

"Chances of making it to the door?" She thought, though it was too late. He grabbed her, throwing her onto the bed, his sweaty torso squashed her breasts as his trousers and boxers were around his ankles. He licked her face as tears silently streamed down it, his left hand snaked its way down her body, pulling her skirt up. He used his left hand to rip her knickers off her as his knees forced her legs apart. He forced his penis into her, driving deep in until his pelvis was hitting hers; he bit her left ear as he started to thrust. She screamed for him to stop.

"NO!" He cried angrily, hitting her again and again. Striking her across the face several times, and still forcing his way inside her. Within minutes, Jane was unconscious and breathing her last breaths. The man, tall and thin, grabbed her body when he was done, and hid her, in a place where no-one would find her, taking care to bury her, a sign of his guilty conscience.

Stacey got to work a little after nine. She ran through the corridors, already knowing she was late.

"You're late", Patrick confirmed. "We've waited for you, Doc?"

"Ok, well the bruises on the neck and cyanosis suggest strangulation* and the airway has been compressed, so cause of death would be manual asphyxia*."

Stacey looked at the body of Daisy Jones. Her small figure was laid out on the autopsy table, too small to have been there. Her chest was sewn up with a jet black thread. The dishes on the table were still soaked in her blood from where her organs had previously been. Stacey felt ill just looking at it.

"TOD?"

"My estimated time of death would be between 2am-4am, approximately 32 hours ago, judging by the body temperature and stiffness of the body."

"Ok, Stacey, Find Det. Harris, find out what other evidence we have, I'm going to go interview the family." Patrick looked at her, "It's ok to be sick in your first autopsy, Stacey, everyone is."

Stacey accepted that and ran from the room. A few minutes later she was back at her desk, with Haley leaning over her shoulder.

"We found a few strands of hair which did not belong to the victim; they must be the suspect's"

"Have we confirmed DNA on them yet?" Stacey asked, her blue eyes sparkling with hope.

"The lab is running it through codis now; they'll call when we have the results."

Stacey looked at the phone, willing it to ring. It was old, grubby grey, and out of fashion along with most of the electronics and people around the room. She then looked at the stack of paperwork in front of her. The entire office had stacks of paperwork to go through, double check and triple check to see if they had missed anything that could lead them to the killer. It was times like this, when most of the department hated their jobs, that and the dead bodies. Coffee cups were cluttered over the desks and floor around them, from too many late nights and early starts. The office had white walls and wooden floors, which gave the bored staff no distractions to keep them from the paperwork. The crime board was now overflowing with pictures, dates and any leads, which always seem to turn out dead ends. Rows of desks filled the rest of the office, each with a huge stack of paper, waiting for its owner to sigh and get stuck into it. Detectives sat at most desks, either trying to find excuses or going through page after page of old evidence. A shrill irrupted through the office, making half of them (*Body turns blue due to lack of oxygen)

(*Strangulation)

jump. Stacey grabbed the phone, "Hello?"

"Jay Green came up in codis; he was arrested for theft 3 years ago, Lives at 22 White Hill Road."

"Ok, thanks." Stacey replied. She grabbed her badge and went out to the car. "Patrick, got a name and address, ring me back." White Hill Road was the other side of town, so Stacey had time to think on the way. She was about to meet her sister's potential killer. Her heart thudded in her throat, beating like a raging river, her blood boiled for vengeance.

"It's just a guy I met at collage." Jamie blushed, "I really like him Stacey."

"Well, just don't let him hurt you." Stacey replied, feeling motherly. This was the first time she had seen her sister truly happy.

And this guy could have taken it all away. All the memories and Jamie's entire future. He stole her life and Stacey would get her revenge.

Stacey was still thinking about slitting this guy's throat when she pulled into the drive. To her dismay, Patrick was there already. She slid slowly out of the car, and made her way to the front door, which was wide open.

"Detective Alan, Cup of tea?" Asked an eager woman.

"No, I'll pass, Patrick?" Stacey walked into the colourful house. Flowers dominated most of the hallway, clashing with the lime green wallpaper. As Stacey walked into the living room, she took in her surrondings. Dozens of pictures, filling every space of her walls, every surface and even parts of the floor. Each photos was the same girl. She had beautiful dark hair, flowing down to her chest. Her face was young and she seemed happy. Across, on the sofa, sat a boy, a taller, older, male version of her.

"Ok, this is Jay Green, Zoe Green's brother; he claims to have been with Daisy Jones at 6.00pm on the 1st July." Patrick summorised quickly.

"Ok, what did he do to her? The hair is a confirmed DNA match"

"I didn't do anything. We're dating. Well, we were." Said Jay. "I left her at 8.00pm, I offered to walk her home but she refused! I hope you catch the bastard, first my sister, then my girlfriend" He looked rather shifty, biting his nails and refusing to make eye contact.

"There's something he's not telling us" Stacey thought to herself.

"Yeah, and more." Replied Stacey, wishing she'd arrived earlier to hear the rest of his 'story'. She and Patrick left, contemplating what they had just heard. As soon as they got back to the car, Stacey lost it.

"Well, that could have just been a lot of shit!" Stacey yelled, "Does he have an alibi? Where was he at 2am on the 2nd July? Can anyone confirm his whereabouts? What if the Time of death was wrong?"

"Stacey, calm down. He was at home; anyway, the first disappearance was ten years ago, that would have made him five."

"He could be a copycat, or have been recruited."

"Serial killers tend to work alone, you know that, and why would he murder and rape his sister or girlfriend? Why would he join forces with the person who killed them?"

"It's just a theory, Patrick. We're getting no-where with this case. Same as all the others."

Stacey got back into her car and drove off at full speed. She didn't even know where she was going until she saw the lake. The slamming of the door rocketed through the silent forest. She threw a few stones towards the black lake, screaming out her anger. Her bracelet went flying with the last stone, making a loud splash in the shallows.

"Shit." Stacey cried, running towards the dark water. She put her hand in and felt around for the only solid memory of her sister. She found what she was looking for and more. In the water, her hand grabbed another, a bony, slimy hand. She screamed, trying to pull her hand away, but it had gripped her tight, trying to drag her under. As she was pulled below the murky surface, she began to see the truth. Surrounding her were at least ten mossy skeletons, grabbing for every inch of skin. Then, they began to fade and the waterlogged corpses began to show themselves. The first, dressed in ripped, white cloths, with blood and water leaking out her body, started to claw at Stacey, who in defence, fought back. She was getting weaker. The corpses drew further in, taking her deeper into the darkness.

"Stacey..." The voices were a blur of sight and sound. "Stacey!"

She awoke to the sight of Patricks face above hers. She tried to sit up too fast, her head spinning.

"What...?" Stacey attempted to say before throwing up.

"You fell in the water; your foot was caught in the algae. Good job I followed you, else you'd have drowned." Patrick said, feeling pleased with himself. Stacey looked back at the water, seeing the bones and misty hands rising.

"But the corpses, Patrick. They were alive, clawing and biting. Look at the marks, defensive wounds."

"No, Stacey, you were the only thing in there, you got those clawing at the bank. You passed out. Go home, get some rest."

Patrick helped her up and drove her home, making sure she went. Stacey got out the car and walked slowly through the front door, watching every corner, waiting for them to jump out. She had just got through into the kitchen, when it jumped from the spot it had been lurking in. It grabbed her waist, throwing her into the air, before planting a big kiss on her cheek.

"Bloody hell Chris, you scared the shit out of me."

"And hello to you too, babe." Chris laughed, cuddling her. "I got the wedding pictures back from the photographer today. All on a disk for us to look through tonight." His brown hair tickled her face as he went in to kiss her again.

Stacey smiled, hoping at last she could relax, get away from her work. The third photo through she showed up, in the background, like an unwanted extra in a film. She was dressed in a pale pink dress, ripped all down the sides, barely covering her. Her hair hung in dreadlocks and her eyes were leaking blood. She was screaming at them, running towards them, banging on the TV screen, begging to be set free. She began to claw at the photo, turning them in to voodoo dolls, causing Stacey to scream out in pain.

"What?" Chris asked his face full of concern, his brilliant green eyes questioning her."Stacey?"

She stopped screaming and looked at her arms, the pain and cuts had gone. "D...D...Did you n...not see her?" Stacey questioned him, eyes full of terror. "Jamie?"

"Stacey, get some rest, this case is really getting to you."

16th January 2003 – Annie Davids

The small brunette walked quickly through the trees. Her breath escaping her. She wished she had asked Jay to walk her home and then maybe she wouldn't have been as scared. A twig snapping forced her out of her thoughts, and looking behind her, she saw a looming black shadow. Annie broke into a run, darting between trees, stumbling over her own feet. Her heart was pounding in her ears, covering all other sounds except that of her feet. Glancing behind her again and seeing nothing, she allowed herself to slow, trying to figure out where she was. From behind a tree came two gloved hands, gripping around her throat. Annie struggled, trashing her arms and legs around, before fading into darkness.

Morning came around too fast for the Detectives at the police station. There were more stacks of papers, files and phones shrieking. The usually quiet office was bustling with people, interns doing the morning coffee run, police officers attempting to look busy, detectives pulling together last resources for the morning briefing. Stacey walked slowly into the office, feeling rather sick and trying to pull herself together. She walked past the messy desks, toward the briefing room. Upon the large table were copies of the files, hastily organised into one mass of paper. Coffees and glasses were placed on any space left on the table, and the huge goblet of water reflected all the anxious faces. Taking her seat, Stacey realised how many people had now appeared for this, volunteers from the village, worried parents, afraid it could be their child next. Patrick stood up with sudden hast, nervous to get this over with.

"First, I would like to thank everyone for coming, it will be a great help having not only extra but also fresh eyes on this case. I'd also like to introduce Detective Garry Clifford, who has come from London to help us out." Gary Clifford was a tall man who seemed to be stuck in the 1900's. His hair was grey, along with his eyes. And everything about him told them, he did not want to be there. He reached up and stroked his beard, as if to look busy and in thought. The sudden bang of the door startled almost everyone in the room.

"Doctor Hall confirmed rape." Haley announced, walking swiftly into the room.

"Daisy?" one of the volunteer's asked.

"Yeah."

"Sick bastard." Another offered, revealing everyone's thoughts.

"Any semen?" Stacey asked, feeling sick for actually hoping there was.

"No, he must of worn a condom," Haley replied, "so still no leads on the case." Stacey looked around the room at all the pale faces.

Patrick continued, "Ok, so, as far as we know the trace has run cold on catching the killer. All DNA profiles and evidence has come back inconclusive…"

"Except for Jay Green" added a young female, stood up at the back. "Where has that lead you?"

"Jay Green is not a viable suspect, he has an alibi. As I was saying, our police officers and the volunteers will continue searching through the data, files and reports. Meanwhile our Detectives will re-investigate the scenes of the crimes, disappearances and re-interview the families."

"Won't that be difficult for the families?" Asked a redheaded male. "We can't just go knocking on their doors and ask about it again, imagine the distress."

"If we want to be anywhere closer to catching the killer we have to do it. And if the families want the man… or woman, who murdered their daughters found, they will agree to it." Stacey replied, "For once we need to be optimistic."

"Stacey's right. Officers and volunteers you can go now."

About thirty people tumbled out the door into the office, grumbling about the paper work and finally sitting behind their desks. Seven people were left sitting round the mess called the table. Patrick stood at the head of the table, his fists leant against it. His face was slightly red and frown lines were engraved into his head.

"I want you lot to be out in the field…" There were a few sniggers at this point as surrounding Grayhare was nothing but forest and fields. It seemed that a slight laugh got them through each and every day. Stacey sighed, surprised that people still laughed at this.

"…Harris, Clifford and Fisher, interviewing families, friends etc. recollecting data on disappearance, date, place etc. Mason, Carpenter, Alan and I will investigate the crimes scenes, where the victim was last seen and hopefully get round to the forest. Go, report back with any new information." Just as he was finishing, people were getting up, discussing routes, and the best way to approach the situation. Stacey got up and wandered towards her desk. A small, chunky man was sat there, tutting as he went through page after page of the same information. Stacey couldn't help but smile a little as she watched him, happy that it wasn't her. She grabbed her keys, probably scratching the desktop with the force she took them with.

As Stacey walked towards the car, she felt glad that she had been picked for crimes scenes instead. Patrick had probably done that for a reason, the last time she was dealing with people, it hadn't gone so well. The detectives got into the car and headed to the school, where several of the girls had last been seen. The four wandered slowly into the school, receiving stares from many students walking to their next class. They reached the headmasters office after getting lost and having to ask directions at least three times. Patrick knocked loudly on the heavy oak door. A minute later, it creaked open.

"Hello, I'm Detective Hyde; this is Det. Alan, Carpenter and Mason." Patrick announced.

"Yes, I thought I might get a visit soon," replied the Head, scooting his glasses up his nose, "All the girls went missing after school had ended and were only last seen on my premises. Of course, I want to do all I can to help, but please know that I played no part in these...disappearances." The radio on the desk crackled loudly, giving some important message.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to deal with a small situation. Please, feel free to investigate." And with that he walked out the door.

"Well, that was a hasty exit!" Alan Carpenter exclaimed, quite bemused.

"Makes me think he has something to hide." Patrick said coldly. He began to pull out the files in the top drawer of the filing cabinet. He handed some to Harry Mason and the others to Alan.

"Stacey, track down the headmaster, Mr..." Patrick glanced at the desk, "...Ellis."

Stacey left the tiny office and headed down the bright hallway. The notice boards were full of posters, advertising charity events and revision books, and signup sheets to afterschool activities. Most of these were empty, with about two real names and five other 'joke' names. There was litter dumped into the corners and graffiti over the walls and lockers.

"It hasn't changed..." She mumbled to herself. Down the end of the hallway was a glass door leading into a large hall area. Stacey pushed it open to find a large memorial on the left wall. Pictures of ten of the girls were staring her in the face. Letters and notes had been left for each girl, who had their own section of the wall. Stacey walked closer to it and found herself standing amongst contrasting dead mulch and bright new flowers. The tears immediately welled up inside her, as she began to read the messages pinned onto the grubby grey wall.

"Touching, aren't they?" Stacey jumped, turning quickly. Mr Ellis stood behind her, watching her.

"Nearly every student knew at least one of the girls, in one way or another, but would seem that in fact every student has left a message for them. One of the girls' sisters left her a message. Unfortunately four years after her sister's death, she was also murdered. Here..." he pointed out the message. It was written in golden swirly writing. Stacey moved closer to it and began to read...

'Sarah, I know it's only been a week, and they keep telling us you may still be alive, but I know deep down that you're gone. I never really thought that you would ever leave me. I thought you would always be there, to watch over me. To remind me every day that life is worth living, even when it's tough. You always talked about your dreams, growing up to be a movie star, having three kids with hot bloke by your side. I always thought you'd get there someday. Maybe you are there; he's beside you in heaven, holding your hand, telling you everything will be ok. I miss you, I wish you were here so you could tell me everything is going to be fine, and I'm sure it will, because I have faith in you. And I'm going to live my life to the fullest, because now I know how short life really is. I'll see you in about fifty years sis. I love you.'

Stacey carefully wiped the tears away, which were running down her cheeks. She turned around to find an empty hall.

"Stacey, did you find him?" Patrick asked as soon as she arrived back at the office.

"Yeah, he made me jump, then vanished again." Stacey stated, "He was sorting out an anrguement." She answered to Patricks confused look. The files were mostly back in the drawers, which were closed. Except one. The label read 'Teachers'. "What did you find out?"

"Jane's father used to work here."

"That's funny; he never mentioned that when we were interviewing him." Harry said, confused.

"What kind of teacher?" Stacey asked.

"Science." Alan cut in, "He didn't seem like a person with a lot of patience to me"

"Well, I'll phone Clifford and get him to ask when they interview him." Patrick pulled out his phone and stepped out of the office.

After a tiring day visiting the scenes of some of the disappearances, the four finally pulled back into the police car park. Stacey got into her own car and headed towards home, making one quick stop on the way home. When she arrived, the smell of food drifted towards her. She walked into the dining room to find chicken in white wine sauce laid on a table filled with candles. That evening, she and Chris shared a passionate night.

Stacey awoke in the morning to the same feeling of sickness she had most mornings. She wandered lazily toward the bathroom, grabbing her bag along the way. She pulled out the test she had brought the previous day, carefully reading the instructions on the box. She took the test and, as she waited, her mind began to wonder…

A young version of Jamie and Stacey appeared in her mind. They were sat on the banks of the lake, casually dangling their feet into the murky waters. Jamie was laughing at something. It was a beautiful sound that rang through the branches.

"Please…?" Jamie begged, batting her eyes.

"No, it could be dangerous. The…the roof could fall on us!" Stacey was always the practical one, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her. "Oh, alright then. Not for long though, we have to get back."

The two had played in the abandoned shack for the best part of a day. They ran up and down the wooden staircase, and around the grubby decking. They had pushed open the creaky doors and screamed as mice had run toward the light. After exploring, they had played hide and seek, hiding under dust sheets and in cobwebbed cupboards…

Stacey drew back to reality. The two minute deadline crept up and the timer she had set began to beep. She glanced down toward the test in her hand. Two pink lines were beginning to appear. Stacey looked at the stick in confusion before reading the instructions on the back of the box. Silently the box fell out of her shaky hands and onto the tiled floor. The shock took her by surprise and at that moment, she felt the most scared she had felt in a long time. She opened the door and looked at her sleeping husband, tangled in the duvet, panicking about what he might say. He seemed so peaceful, snuggling into the soft, white duvet. Stacey shut the door again. Silently she screamed, still in shock from the news she had just gotten. Then she pulled herself together and got ready for work.

"Stacey," Patrick greeted, "We're off to Bricklade for an interview. You comin'?" Stacey nodded and walked quickly back toward the car. As she slid into the passenger side of the black car, she hoped that this was it. That they could catch the scent of the killer and stop him, once and for all. The car slid into motion and they began their drive to Bricklade Avenue, the home of the first missing girl, Jane Hacknell. Blurs of green and grey flew past the window and rain began to hammer on the windscreen. "Bloody British weather!" Patrick sighed, switching up the radio, which was just background noise, now a loud, cheery sound which contrasted with the weather outside and the atmosphere in the car. Violins and Piano intertwined to form an amazing piece, yet although the relaxing music now rose through the car, the tension still grew. Terraced houses now flew past them as they drove down Bricklade. On the pavement stood a group of teenagers, egging houses and smashing windows. They looked up for a moment as the black machine passed them, before turning back to the house they were terrorizing. At number fourteen, the car rolled to a steady stop.

The pair walked through the overgrown garden toward a murky grey door. A tall, broad man, with silvery hair and thick rimmed glasses pulled the door open forcefully. "Mr Hacknell, I'm Detective Hyde, this is Alan." Patrick stated, briefly flashing their badges. The grumpy man ushered them in, slamming the door once they were inside. The house was a tip, full of empty cans and pizza boxes. The sofas they were offered were damp, dirty and off-colour. Even the mugs thrust into their hands had mould growing inside them, which could be seen through the watery tea.

"Mr Hacknell, you worked at Grayhare Secondary?" Stacey asked, jumping straight to the point, and hoping they could catch him out.

"Why is this relevant? You've already interviewed me, don't you think that it is incredibly inconsiderate of you to keep asking me about my daughter. She's dead, died a long time ago but I am still grieving!" The older man said, starting to raise his voice a little.

"Mr Hacknell, just answer the question" Patrick cut in, "Or we can do this down at the station." He warned.

"Yes, I did work there." Hacknell stated, defeatedly.

"So you knew many of the girls who disappeared?"

"Are you accusing me of something? I lost my daughter to that…that bastard too! I didn't kill her!" Hacknell's face began to go an impressive shade of red and the veins began to strain in his head. Yet Stacey could see the twitching of his eyes and how uncomfortable he looked.

"Mr Hacknell, please, calm down." Stacey soothed. The man looked her straight in the eyes, and she swore his eyes moved down her body, almost examining it. She too, began to feel uncomfortable, wanting to leave as soon as.

"I recognise you." He stated. Stacey shuddered at the thought of knowing someone like him. "You knew my daughter...or your sister did. What a lovely girl she was." Desire glinted in his eyes as the last words rolled of his tongue, and Stacey didn't miss it. Anger began to flare up inside of her; she instantly knew that it was him. But she'd have to prove it first.

Back in the car, the deathly silence filled the air once again. Patrick hummed slightly to himself, whilst Stacey got lost in her thoughts. Hacknell's words ran through her head, the way his eyes had wandered over her body. The desire and lust engraved in his eyes. She shuddered yet again, seeing his eyes in the darkness surrounding them.

"He's getting to you Stacey." Patrick cut into her thoughts. "Not every suspect we come across did it, you know."

"I know," She replied, "But I saw it in his eyes."

"Stacey, go home, get some rest and remain objective. I can't have you on the case like this." Patrick's voice was suddenly cold and cutting. He was angry. Stacey went back to watching the dark countryside past them, getting lost in the night. Yet again, the only sounds to be heard were those of silence. Then the smooth road began to get bumpy, throwing Stacey and Patrick around in their seats. The car started to swerve towards the side of the road, barely missing the potholes to the side of them. The streetlights suddenly went out, leaving them in a complete blackout. The car jerked to the side once again, before finally toppling over into the hedge lining the road. Both detectives fell into the same darkness.

"Patrick" Stacey called out weakly, before her world went black again. He led there, head leaning against the window, which was now smashed against the ground. Blood trickled from a deep cut in his head. His arm was bent and the white of the bone contrasted against the red pouring out of the wound. Stacey led against his legs, unconscious. Glass shards were engraved into her arm and the side of her face. Her eyelids began to flutter. The scene before her was blurry. The car had toppled, the glass had broken.

"Patrick" She called out again, desperation embedded in her voice. Silence. From behind her, two bright, white lights appeared. The tyres slowly stopped. She heard the car door opening, the sound of feet crunching against the rough road. "Help!" The door ahead of her opened and a face peered in. She tried to scream. The needle pierced her skin and Stacey began to fall back into the shadows.

He dragged her limp body from the car, dumping her in the boot of his own. He kissed her soft, white, delicate skin, before slamming the boot shut. The sound echoed into the night. He got back into the driver's seat, moving the wire cutters across, before speeding into the night.

15


End file.
